Hadrian Lecter: Becoming
by savya398
Summary: Dr. Hannibal Lecter isn't what he seems. He's a monster wearing a well-tailored person suit. And when he gets his hands on young Harry Potter the wizarding world will never be the same.
1. A Thief in the Night

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Hannibal or Harry Potter.**

**Also this is a Hannibal crossover so there will be mentions of murder and cannibalism. Nothing too graphic but you have been warned.**

**Chapter 1: A Thief in the Night**

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Dr. Hannibal Lecter was upset. Well, that wasn't quite true. In actuality he was a little more than upset. He was angry. It was so very rare that he ever felt anger. In fact it was rare for him to feel any strong emotion.

So when he did, he savored it. Relished the taste like a fine wine. He dragged the sensation out so that he could experience it for as long as possible. However, his rage was so complete that he found he couldn't drag out the emotion this time. In fact he'd barely been able to stop himself from attacking the objects of his anger in the restaurant that evening. His iron-clad control had been sorely tested.

Hannibal had been enjoying a nice evening with a few colleagues. They had attended a weekend long psychiatric conference in London, and to celebrate their last evening they'd gone to a gourmet restaurant. The first few courses had been more than up to Hannibal's strict standards even if the meat hadn't been his preferred choice. The wine held a wonderful bouquet that Hannibal's strong sense of smell found delightful. The conversation had even been decent, not dull for once. One of his associates was hiding an interesting anxiety disorder, which Hannibal had planned on encouraging a bit to see what happened.

However, his plans were ruined when the pigs walked in. Hannibal thought of all his victims as pigs but these people were truly the embodiment of the foul creatures. The man was corpulent and loud with a large walrus like mustache and an ill fitting suit that strained around his thick girth. The woman to his left was obviously his sister. The only difference being she was even louder, she wore a dress, and her mustache wasn't quite as pronounced. The other woman, obviously his wife, was rail thin with a pinched face that resembled a horse. She held the hand of a loudly whining, hideously obese little boy that had no place in the establishment.

Hannibal could have ignored them if they had just been loud. But he could not ignore their rudeness. The man and his sister were boorish demanding the best of everything without knowing the true value of it. They ate like hogs shoving small appetizers, that were meant to be savored, down their gullets all the while boasting and laughing loudly. They gulped down their wine without appreciation of its fine scent or taste. Hannibal could have killed them on those points alone. Alas they were even more vulgar than that. The man bragged loudly about a promotion at work, and his sister spoke of her prized dogs. Hannibal wanted to feed her to those dogs. He was certain he would be doing the dogs a favor. The wife gossiped and spoke ill of her neighbors, delighting in their tragedies and misfortunes. The boy continued to whine loudly about being bored in between shoveling food down their throats.

Hannibal managed to contain himself long enough to learn the names of the horrid pigs. Then he excused himself from his associates. He was unable to stay a moment longer or else he feared his control would be forfeited, and he would lunge at them in the restaurant. Even he had his limits, and those… people had pushed his. Once he had made his exit he began to plan. He located the homes of the Dursleys. The sister was staying with them for the weekend. This was perfect for Hannibal's plan. He rarely slaughtered more than one pig at time, and he tried not to hunt in territories he hadn't familiarized himself with beforehand. But he was willing to make an exception for the Dursleys.

The next night found him visiting Number 4 Privet Drive. He approached the house like a shadow, quiet and unseen despite the plastic suit he wore. However, before he could go any further he was halted by an invisible barrier. Hannibal paused in surprise. He tested the barrier again, running a palm over it. He moved around the edges of the barrier, testing to see where the boundaries lay. The barrier completely surrounded the entire house. It was quite the conundrum to Hannibal. What was a powerful blood ward doing surrounding the home of an ordinary human family? The better question was why would someone want such a powerful protection for such odious people? Hannibal wanted to find out and to do that he needed to get inside those wards.

A wizard had created the wards, and they were quite strong. But so was Hannibal. He wore the guise of being human but he wasn't. He was a creature from nightmares, powerful and ancient. His kind were the reason human beings feared the dark. They played with their minds and devoured their flesh. There weren't many of his kind left, and many believed that they were nothing more than myths. Hannibal hadn't seen another of his kind in centuries, and he often wondered if he was the last. Wizards, and humans had killed them off long ago. Their population had always been small, and the wizards and humans had used their greater numbers to hunt them. Hannibal alone seemed to have escaped the slaughter. He lost both his parents and his younger sister. He remained alive through his cunning, and power. But he was alone, masquerading as a human. His disguise was so great that even he sometimes forgot that he was something more. After all it was essential for him to forget, it kept him from missing the freedom of his true from.

It was instances such as this, being confronted with magic, that made him remember himself. He wanted to test his strength against those of wizards just to assure himself that he was still capable of it. He wanted to get to whatever they were trying so desperately to hide. Hannibal pulled on his own, quite significant, dark power. He murmured in the deep guttural language of his people and slashed his palm to spill his black blood against the barrier. The blood wards around the home shuddered as his own blood washed up against it. For a moment longer they resisted before dissolving completely. Hannibal allowed himself a brief moment of triumph. He was exhausted but it was one of the biggest challenges that he had had in a long. He knew that now the wards had fallen someone would be alerted. No one had such strong wards in place without some sort of alarm system in place in the event that they failed. He would have to work quickly.

He used his inhuman speed to move swiftly and silently up into the bedrooms. He dispatched the parents and sister-in-law with quick brutal ease. He couldn't chance taking his time drawing out their deaths now. The son he left alive. Despite the child's horrid behavior he still didn't want to kill a child unless it was absolutely necessary. Instead he gave the child a sedative that would insure he slept for at least 24 hours. The sedative would have the added benefit of confusing the wizards. A magical creature or another wizard wouldn't be likely to use a muggle sedative on the child, and it would draw attention away from him. With that done he displayed the bodies in a particularly shaming manner. The ritual soothed the savage rage burning inside him that the pigs had caused to stir inside him.

Making art from the bodies of his victims was something he had fallen into, and he enjoyed it. It was an outlet for his natural violent tendencies. His kind was inherently inclined to meddle and play with the minds of others. Hannibal was a perfect example of that. He reveled in manipulating others and testing them to see what they would do. Unfortunately, there weren't many who were up to the challenge of facing his strength and skills. In the end they weren't able to hold his interest for an extended period of time.

With his task complete he went to check the rest of the house. Hannibal hadn't seen anything to warrant the powerful blood wards around the house. As he was treading down the stairs his sharp hearing caught the sound of shuffling underneath the stairs. Hannibal was more than confident in his own abilities and he knew without a doubt that something was under the stairs. Hannibal went to investigate. There was a lock on the outside of the broom cupboard and Hannibal assumed that the Dursleys must keep the family pet inside. If he was being honest with himself the small boy of about four or five with a wild mop of black hair curled up inside on a dirty mattress was the last thing he had been expecting.

The boy wore old stained clothing several sizes too big. Hannibal knew they had to be hand-me-downs from the overweight boy upstairs. The boy was curled up under an old thin blanket. A few broken crayons and a couple of plastic soldiers littered the floor of the cupboard. Hannibal's mind wandered to the room full of toys and the thick bedspread in the other boy's room. Rage consumed him. He suddenly wished that he hadn't killed the Dursleys so quickly. What right did they have to lock this child up like unwanted trash?

The boy had turned to look at Hannibal while he had been lost in his thoughts. Large emerald green eyes warily looked Hannibal over. The face was thin and sunburnt making his eyes stand out all the more. The look in the eyes was something Hannibal recognized. It was hopelessness tinged with hunger and desperation. Suddenly he didn't see a small boy in front of him. He saw a little girl. A girl who had called his name while she cried for him to protect her. He had failed her. He had been weak, and unable to stop the human men from tearing her apart. What was more Hannibal could sense the magic surrounding this boy. He was saturated with it, and Hannibal wanted to drink it in. There was a slight darkness that tinged his otherwise pure magical scent, and Hannibal found himself intrigued by it. He knew without a doubt that this boy was what the wards had been hiding.

Before he could think better of it he swept the child up into his arms. The child barely made a whimper as he was scooped up by a complete stranger wearing a blood covered plastic suit. Of course the boy was half asleep and most likely didn't properly recognize what was happening. Hannibal soothed the child against his shoulder when the boy squirmed a bit as they exited the house. Hannibal sent a tendril of his will into the boy's mind, forcing the boy into a deeper sleep with peaceful dreams. He didn't know what he was going to do with him yet, but he knew that he couldn't just leave him behind. The child was the most fascinating thing he had discovered in ages. He wasn't one to let such a gift slip away from him.

His calculating mind was already moving through several different paths that he could take whilst he disposed of the evidence, and settled the boy in his rented car with a blanket. Hannibal drove them back to the hotel, and by the time they reached the hotel he had settled on two different courses of action. Killing him was out of the question. At least not at the moment. He was far too interested to learn what made this boy so special as to warrant such wards to protect him. But then if the boy was special then why had he been left with humans who treated him like unwanted garbage? It was an interesting puzzle that he wanted to solve. Hannibal could have just left him at the nearest and most qualified orphanage, and not gotten involved at all. However, it wasn't in his nature to not try and manipulate situations for his own amusement. So in the end he chose to keep him.

Having a child or raising a child had never entered Hannibal's mind. He was one of the last of his kind so even if he wanted to it wouldn't have been possible. There were ways to turn someone but he had never met a human he thought was worth the effort. Hannibal wasn't certain why he thought of changing this child now. Perhaps it was the way he had associated the boy with his sister. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was lonely. He had spent so many years hiding his true nature, pretending to be human. It had its merits, being able to get up close and personal to better twist the minds of weaker beings without the need of his powers. He enjoyed the various serial killer personas he created, or occasionally copying another's work so perfectly no one would be able to tell the difference. For the first time he thought of what it would be like to mentor someone. To have someone that would be susceptible to being molded and created in the image that he wanted of them. Turning him would make the boy his son, the closest to a son as he was ever going to get. He wanted someone to pass on his ideals and his knowledge to.

It was this loneliness paired with the worn and weary look in the child's eyes that made him decide to keep the boy. It would be an inconvenience to get the paperwork in order but Hannibal felt the benefits would pay off. He had quite a few contacts in the world who could forge the necessary papers, and enough money to get things done quickly and quietly. Within a few days he would have all the paperwork declaring the boy his legal son. By tomorrow he would have begun the process of making him his son.

He carried the child up to his hotel room. The boy was terribly light. Hannibal would make sure to change all that. He had grand plans to see him being fed quite well from now on. After all growing boys needed their nutrients. Hannibal got rid of his dirty rags, and dressed him in one of his own undershirts. He was going to burn the disgusting scraps as soon as he could, and get him some proper outfits to wear. He tucked the child into one of the beds, and cast a small protective ward around him. It would keep his location hidden for the time being if the wizards started searching for him. In the morning everything would change for the boy. It would be the beginning of a very difficult adjustment period. The child would need his sleep.

Hannibal couldn't resist taking a look into his mind. What he saw interested him. He watched from the shadows as the boy dreamt of lying outside in a field of flowers looking up at the sky. It was an odd dream for a child. Most children dreamt of toys or sweets. The boy had an oddly peaceful mind for one so young. But if he had spent most of his life locked in a broom cupboard under the stairs it was no wonder that he dreamt of the sky when he was able.

Hannibal left the boy to his dream and moved deeper into the boy's memories. His kind were master of nightmares and mind magic. In the time when they had been at the height of their power they could even turn nightmares a reality. Hannibal was only capable of such a feat if he was extremely well rested and prepared. Afterwards he would be completely exhausted, and his energy stores would be depleted. He would need another of his kind if he wanted to work great magic like that again.

Hannibal moved through the boy's mind in the shape of a large black-feathered stag lest the boy catch sight of his presence. His horns were a mass of twisting thorns. The points were sharper than knives and could impale someone with casual ease. This ravenstag was one of the three forms he was capable of taking. The second was his human form and the last form was somewhere in between the other two. The third form was the true shape of the wendigo. The wendigo was a creature with the feathered and furred lower half of the ravenstag along with its massive antlers. A wendigo's skin was like black polished ebony and its long fingered hands ended in long wicked black claws. The eyes could often be seen as the most unnerving since they were the color of dried blood with no whites or irises.

In myth wendigos were perceived as cannibals and they were right. Wendigo's had voracious appetites and would eat anything or anyone even their own kind. The legends were also true that to become a wendigo one had to practice cannibalism. But that wasn't all of it. Just being a cannibal wouldn't change someone. A person would need the assistance of a born wendigo or at the very least would need access to a steady supply of a born wendigo's blood. The process wouldn't take too long, no more than a month or so but it must be done in the correct manner. The process would prove difficult for the boy, and not all humans were capable of making the switch. Hannibal was confident that the boy's magic would aid him through the process. The boy was also strong to have lived through the treatment he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys.

The more Hannibal saw of the boy's memories the more he regretted killing the Dursleys so quickly and in their sleep. They weren't physically abusive, except for the occasional slap to the back of the head and the way they yanked him around. But they were just deplorable people. They neglected the boy in favor of spoiling their own disgusting spawn. They belittled him and were unjustly cruel to him for matters beyond his control. Of course this benefitted Hannibal nicely since the boy would be eager to please anyone who showed him the slightest bit of affection and attention. It would make it all the easier to mold the boy to his expectations. The Dursleys had started working the child the moment he was old enough to walk. The aunt had him making simple meals, doing the laundry, and weeding the garden. Chores were good for children. Using them like slave labor wasn't. Hannibal was a murderer but even he had his standards.

Hannibal learned a bit about how Harry came to be with the Dursleys. It was difficult to discern because the memories were those of an infant. They were fuzzy but he was able to make out that there was some sort of attack. A dark wizard of some kind had attacked and killed the boy's parents. The wizard hadn't been able to dispatch the boy for some reason. The spell he cast had rebounded and destroyed him while only leaving the lightning bolt shaped mark on the boy's forehead. Somehow the boy had been placed with his mother's human sister and her family. The details of just how were even fuzzier, and Hannibal made the assumption that the boy had been asleep during those particular events.

For the most part the boy's mind was simple to traverse. The boy was too young to build any sort of effective barriers to keep someone like him out. Hannibal made the boy familiar with his presence in his mind. This was would insure that the boy had a small measure of trust in him when he woke in the morning. Hannibal also noticed a darkness in the boy's mind that definitely did not belong. It had been walled off behind impressive barriers within the child's mind. The child must have created them instinctively. If he hadn't he probably wouldn't have survived the taint. Hannibal would probe the foreign piece of magic later. That is if the fragment wasn't completely destroyed when he started turning the boy.

After gathering all the information that he could he decided to withdraw from the child's mind, and seek his own rest. He was tired. He hadn't used so much energy in a long time and he was rusty. Hannibal was disappointed with himself he shouldn't have allowed himself to become so out of practice.

Hannibal woke early, feeling more refreshed, and eager to start the day. The hotel had a small kitchenette in the room. It was nothing special but it allowed him to prepare a small breakfast. He wanted to start building a relationship with the boy as soon as possible. Hannibal had become certain that he wanted to keep the boy after seeing his memories. The boy had a core of steel, and a mysterious past. Hannibal was willing to tie the boy to him. He was also going to begin to turn the boy. He would start the process off by allowing the boy some revenge by feeding him his relatives. The second necessary requirement was Hannibal's own blood, which he would mix in with the boy's cranberry juice.

It didn't take long for the boy to wake up. Hannibal watched in amusement at the series of emotions that flittered across the small features. The child's expressions were like an open book and simple for Hannibal to read even if he hadn't spent last night looking through his mind. There was confusion, fear, and just a hint of wonder as he looked around the room. Hannibal applauded the way he took in the room, and noted the exits and possible hiding places. Fear and uncertainty were the predominant emotions when his gaze finally settled on Hannibal.

"Good morning," Hannibal greeted sending the boy his warmest smile, the one he used to put his patients at ease. There were a few rare humans who were still able to recognize him for the predator that he was. They still carried the remnants of instincts that their ancestors had developed to survive in those dark times before civilization.

The boy was apparently one of them. He didn't appear to buy Hannibal's act at all.

"Good morning, sir," the boy replied timidly despite his obvious discomfort. Hannibal approved of his politeness. At least he wouldn't have to instill manners in the boy just teach him the small niceties of polite society.

"I'm sure you are quite curious as to how you came to be here with me," Hannibal prompted.

"Yes, sir," the boy agreed shifting on the bed as if he wanted to bolt, and twisting Hannibal's shirt nervously in his hands.

"Good, and we shall get to that. But first what is your name?" Hannibal asked. Hannibal already knew the answer. He had learned it last night while in his mind.

"Harry Potter," the boy replied.

Hannibal was going to change his name. Harry was far too common for his son. He would pick something similar to Harry but much more distinctive. His last name would of course be Lecter.

"I am Hannibal Lecter. I am your new guardian," Hannibal explained carefully, and firmly.

"Uncle Vernon always said that if I wasn't good and didn't finish my chores they would send me away to an orphanage where someone bad would take me home," the boy cried in distress.

"I can assure you I mean you no harm. I know this is all very sudden. It is a big change to take. But you are much better off without your relatives. I promise to be a proper caretaker. I want you to think of me as your father," Hannibal explained in a calm, authoritative voice.

"Father?" Harry asked breathlessly.

It would almost be too easy to gain Harry's trust. Hannibal easily recognized how starved for affection Harry was. He had been neglected and unloved by his previous guardians. At the slightest mention of someone wanting to care for him he easily overlooked that a stranger had essentially kidnapped him with no real proof of guardianship beyond his own word. The boy was intelligent Hannibal could see that but his young age and his previous treatment left him highly susceptible to Hannibal's influence.

"Yes, I would very much like that. I know it may take some time for us to develop such a relationship but we have all the time in the world," Hannibal assured.

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia really gave me to you?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yes, we have been planning it for some time. I believed they had informed you of the arrangement. I arrived last night but you were already asleep, and they gave me to you then. I did not want to wake so I brought us back to the hotel," Hannibal lied smoothly.

Harry still didn't look convinced.

"Your aunt and uncle began to look for someone to adopt you after the incident with your teacher's hair," Hannibal said.

The incident had been kept a closely guarded secret with the Dursleys. The only way for Hannibal to have found was for them to have told him. Hannibal knowing the secret would prove that he had known his relatives, and that they had trusted him enough to give him the information.

"I didn't mean to do it. I don't even know how I did it," Harry looked terrified.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Harry. I won't get angry about those sorts of things like your relatives did. Those unexplainable little events are a natural part of you," Hannibal reassured.

"You mean you know what it is I can do?" Harry asked eagerly.

"We will discuss them but first why don't you come over to the table. I have spent the morning preparing breakfast for us to start off our acquaintance on the right foot. A traditional English breakfast. I even made the sausage myself," Hannibal explained with a wink.

Harry warily approached the table Hannibal had carefully set despite the limited resources and took a seat. Hannibal sat as well and picked up his fork. He covertly watched as Harry carefully studied his movements before copying him. Hannibal could tell by watching him out of the corner of his eye that Harry probably hadn't had a lot of opportunities to eat at a table or with silverware but he was already conducting himself in a much better manner than his atrocious relatives. Hannibal had high hopes for him.

"This is very good," Harry praised as he took a bite of the eggs.

"Thank you, cooking is a passion of mine," Hannibal watched carefully as Harry took his very first bite of the carefully prepared sausage. Hannibal couldn't help the smile that spread across his features.

"I like to cook too. Well, my aunt makes me do all the cooking. But I like doing it even if I don't get to eat much of it," Harry shrugged.

"I would be more than happy to teach you how to cook," Hannibal enjoyed the fact that the boy already had some experience and an interest in one of his favorite pastimes. He would slowly wean him in to the others. "But I do not expect you to cook for me. You are the child and I am the adult it will be my job to cook for you."

"Oh, but how will I earn my keep? I don't want to be a burdened," Harry panicked.

"You will not be a burden to me. I would not have agreed to take you otherwise. I do expect you to follow my rules. To be polite and respectful to me. I will expect you to do well in school and to pick up after yourself. I do not expect you to be perfect but I always want you to be trying your very hardest at whatever task I've set before you," Hannibal informed him sternly.

"I understand," Harry paused before timidly asked. "So you want me to do well in school?"

"Of course I want you to do well. Knowledge is very important to have. It can open many doors to us. It is to never be taken advantage of."

"I just started primary school and I liked it at first. But my aunt and uncle got mad when I got better marks than Dudley. Then my teacher wasn't very nice to me after Aunt Petunia told her I copied Dudley's work. She was always yelling at me for things I didn't do, and I just got so mad at her," Harry admitted.

"Your anger was understandable. You were judged unfairly. But it does not pay to lose your temper. Our rational thoughts desert us during those times, and we often do things we will regret later. There are many exercises we can work on to help you learn control," Hannibal offered.

"So when someone's rude to me I just shouldn't do anything?" Harry wanted to know.

"No, but there are other ways for them to be dealt with rather than just lashing out. In the long run it will help you to learn control over your magic as well," Hannibal explained. He knew that the one true way to put Harry at ease in his presence was to validate all of his unexplainable experiences.

"Magic? Magic's not real. Uncle Vernon says so," Harry insisted looking about as if his uncle would jump out at him at any moment.

"Your Uncle Vernon is a normal human so of course he would not know any better," the slight curling of lip was the only indication of just how vulgar he thought the man had been.

"Uncle Vernon hates magic," Harry's gaze drifted off in remembrance.

"Yes, humans hate that which they do not understand," Hannibal agreed.

"So you said humans, does that mean I'm not human?" Harry asked tremulously. The derogatory name calling of his relatives were no doubt ringing in his ears.

"You are a wizard, which is a human who can perform magic," Hannibal explained.

"Are you a wizard too?" Harry asked regarding him shrewdly.

"What I am is a bit more complicated, and we will discuss it in more depth when we have the time. For the time being I will say that I am a magical person, capable of magical powers just like you," Hannibal answered calmly.

"Prove it," Harry commanded boldly.

"Try again," Hannibal said sternly.

"Can you show me, sir, how you do magic please?" Harry asked instantly contrite. His relatives had taught him to obey authority figures but he still had fire in him. Hannibal didn't mind but he needed to insure that Harry came to see him as the only authority in his life, and treated him accordingly.

"Yes, of course I can," Hannibal made a grand gesture of moving his hand and making the shadows in the room dance.

Harry gaped in astonishment.

"That's wicked," the boy enthused once Hannibal had resettled the shadows in their proper places.

"Of course," Hannibal agreed. "Now you haven't had any of your juice. Boys your age need your vitamins, drink up."

Harry flashed him a timid smile and picked up the juice. Hannibal watched closely as the first sip passed his lips. The first taste would irrevocable bind them and mark Harry as his. There would be no going back. Hannibal allowed a small, pleased smile to spread across his face.

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**So this is a bit different from what I normally write, and I hope Hannibal isn't too out of character. Please feel free to tell me your thoughts what you think about him. This story is also taking place way before Hannibal meets Will Graham but I do plan on introducing him to the story later on.**


	2. A Disease of the Mind

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Hannibal or Harry Potter.**

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**Chapter 2: A Disease of the Mind**

Hannibal was pleased when Harry helped him pick up the dishes. He was quite competent at cleaning but Hannibal only allowed him to dry. Hannibal once again had to explain that his rules were going to be quite different than those of relatives when Harry had a minor meltdown about not contributing. The boy had reluctantly accepted this. However, it was obvious that Harry was uncomfortable with the idea. It had been ingrained into his young mind that he had to earn his keep or risk being punished. Hannibal was trying to put the boy at ease around him. He knew it wouldn't take much before the boy came to see him as the better option over his relatives. In fact Hannibal was sure he was realizing that now.

"Now, Harry, we have several errands to run today," Hannibal informed him.

"All right," the boy agreed easily. "What are we going to get?"

"We need to buy you some new clothes. Something that is new and that will actually fit you. All of the clothes your relatives provided are entirely unacceptable," Hannibal said firmly.

Harry's gaze darted over Hannibal's own impeccable attire of a dark blue suit and blood red silk tie. He glanced down at the borrowed shirt he was wearing and then at the pile of his old tattered clothing Hannibal had left in a chair. He seemed to be weighing his options. He was obviously uncomfortable at the thought of Hannibal spending money on him but he couldn't deny the necessity of it.

"I want to provide for you. Your aunt and uncle they provided things for your cousin, didn't they?" Hannibal prompted.

"Yes, but Dudley is their son that's why he always got new things," Harry murmured as if reciting something he was often told.

"And now you are my son, and it is my privilege to take care of you," Hannibal pointed out.

Harry's eyes widened at Hannibal's declaration, and he instantly softened towards Hannibal. He gave Hannibal a shy smile completely forgetting that technically Hannibal was still a stranger to him. The boy was far too trusting for his own good. Hannibal would have to change that. After he had come to trust him completely of course.

Hannibal took Harry to the nearest high-end child's clothing store. He spun a story to the saleswoman about losing his son's luggage while Harry was out of earshot. She was appropriately sympathetic and quickly set about to get several outfits for Harry. She had surprisingly good taste and always asked for his approval before having Harry try something on. This would just be a starting wardrobe of course. Hannibal would take him to his preferred tailor when they returned to Baltimore. For now Harry would need the essentials while they stayed in England before traveling back to America.

Harry was a bit overwhelmed by the experience so afterwards Hannibal took him back to the hotel for lunch, and to rest. Hannibal once again served him some special lunchmeat and juice laced with his blood. The boy made quick work of both. It was far too early for there to be any signs of the change but Hannibal was confident that the process would go smoothly. The chance of success was increased if the person undergoing the change was being assisted by a born wendigo. Hannibal's trips into the boy's dreams would acclimate the boy, and get him accustomed to the proper thought processes namely the insatiable hunger of the wendigo.

After lunch and some rest the two of them went back out. Hannibal had to pick up the necessary papers giving him legal custody of Harry so that the two of them would be able to get on the flight back to the United States tomorrow. Harry wore one of his new outfits out. Hannibal had trimmed his hair and used a fair amount of hair gel to get the boy's hair to finally lie flat against his skull. It was a huge improvement from the appearance of a little ruffian he had been sporting previously. Styling his hair brought out the intriguing lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. It was the source of the dark magic surrounding Harry and he wanted the chance to prod it a bit. However, it would have to wait.

The people Hannibal had employed worked out of an ordinary looking office space. They were quite expensive but they were the best at what they did and came with a complete guarantee that the papers would pass any legal scrutiny. Besides Hannibal had more than enough resources to pay for it, and to have it done quickly. They were more than accommodating when they realized the amount of money that Hannibal was willing to spend. Harry had to have his picture taken for his passport. Then all that was needed was a name for the fake birth certificate and passport. Luckily Hannibal had thought of one. It was sophisticated but not too dissimilar from his original name.

"Here you are, your new passport with your new name," Hannibal handed him the completed passport.

"New name?" Harry questioned in confusion as he squinted at the passport.

Hannibal had forgotten about his poor eyesight. He could have gotten him glasses he supposed. However, Hannibal didn't see why he should bother when Harry's eyesight would be completely corrected by the end of his transformation.

"Your new name is Hadrian Lecter," Hannibal told him.

"Why do I need a new name?" Harry questioned.

"Wouldn't you like a fresh start? With a new name you can be a completely new person. You can be whoever you like, no one will know you were ever Harry Potter," Hannibal said knowing the idea would appeal to the boy after all the ridicule he had received at the hands of his cousin and his cousin's friends.

"It could be neat, I suppose. Like a spy from one of the movies Dudley watches on the telly. But what's a passport and why do I need one?"

"You need one to go on a plane," Hannibal explained.

"Are we going on a trip?" Harry asked eagerly.

"No, we are returning to my home."

"You don't live here?" Harry's eyes had widened in sudden worry.

"You have nothing to worry about. You'll like Baltimore. It is a city in America. I have a large house with a big backyard. There is a park close by that we can walk to on nice days. You will be able to have a room all to yourself. We can decorate it any way that you choose," Hannibal assured him.

Harry twisted his hands nervously, and glanced away from him. The boy looked ready to bolt. Hannibal could sense that he was becoming overwhelmed again and starting to doubt him. Hannibal needed to distract him and reestablish their connection.

"Perhaps you'd like to learn a bit more about wizards and magic?" Hannibal asked.

Harry's attention was instantly snagged. Hannibal smirked a bit as he reached to take the boy's hand. Unlike previous attempts Harry allowed him to hold his hand and lead him away. The two of them preceded to take a walk through the park. Harry listened avidly as Hannibal told him all about the wizarding world and its many eccentricities. He told him about various wizarding societies and about the many magical creatures that existed in the world. The boy was quite eager to learn all that he could about the wizarding world. Of course Harry didn't need to know he wouldn't be a wizard for much longer.

Hannibal made dinner for them that night in the hotel room. He gave Harry a much-needed bath, and then tucked him in with a story from his own youth. Once the boy was in a deep sleep Hannibal decided to do some research. It had been a long time since he had ventured into the wizarding world. Wizards had feared and hated his kind and had hunted them to near extinction. In fact most wizards believed them to be extinct, which made infiltrating them all the easier. Hannibal needed to gather some information about the boy he was going to be raising as his own, and the only way to do that was to seek out his origins. He needed to know who would come after the boy in an attempt to get him back. For someone surely would considering the layers of protection surrounding his relative's home.

To do this he made a trip to Diagon Alley. The plan was to go to Gringotts and make inquiries about Harry Potter. For the right amount of gold the goblins could be persuaded to do almost anything. Hannibal had also been a very influential customer for quite a long time. However, before he made it there he caught sight of a newspaper. The article was about the tragic death of Harry Potter's family and the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived. The article gave a quick history of the famous Harry Potter and his defeat of the most powerful Dark Lord in the last century. Apparently he had survived the Killing Curse. This intrigued Hannibal quite a bit. He knew his decision to take the boy as his was the correct one. There were would be huge searches for the boy but Hannibal was confident that he could hide him for a month. After the month had passed and the change was complete any spells trying to locate Harry Potter wouldn't work any way. Harry Potter the wizard would be dead and Hadrian Lecter the wendigo would take his place.

Hannibal left Diagon Alley to return to the hotel. Harry was still in the deep sleep Hannibal had placed him in. Hannibal stroked the boy's hair back to better examine the scar. It still appeared to be a fresh wound but Hannibal knew that wasn't true. He slipped into Harry's mind to take a closer look.

The boy's mindscape was modeled after a large sprawling garden. It was obviously the influence from the boy's time spent weeding his aunt's garden. He enjoyed his time in the garden away from his relatives and cupboard, and had created his mindscape to reflect that beauty and sense freedom that being outside gave him. The very edges of this internal garden were already starting to blacken and decay. To Hannibal this was a very good sign. It meant that Harry was already beginning to accept the changes and Hannibal's influence at an unconscious level. Hannibal took a moment to encourage the growth. It would encourage Harry's instincts to begin changing, and ensure that his hunger for flesh developed quickly.

His task completed he continued deeper into the garden until he came to the mausoleum like structure that contained the dark magic in the boy's mind. Hannibal didn't want to open it for he didn't know how much danger exposing Harry to the magic within would pose to him. Harry's mind had locked it away from him for a reason. He would settle for poking a small hole into the barrier and taking a peek at what laid inside.

What Hannibal discovered surprised even him. He quickly sealed the hole in the mausoleum and withdrew from Harry's mind completely. There was a soul fragment locked away in Harry's mind, a dark soul. Hannibal had heard of such magic before but he never thought he'd come across someone insane enough to try it. It was the pathetic attempts of desperate mortals trying to attain immortality. Hannibal knew better than to attempt such a thing. To split one's soul was sheer madness, and would cause madness to the person performing the ritual. Nothing was truly immortal all things came to an end. This was a truth that Hannibal actually found comfort in, and it was the reason that he always lived his life to his fullest, and did whatever amused him. However, not many felt the same especially mortals whose lives were so fleeting.

Hannibal pondered about how to remove the soul fragment or if he should wait to see if his blood was capable of destroying the entity. For now he would leave it be. It wasn't causing any immediate harm or hindering his plans for Harry. He would need to do some more research on the subject in the event his blood was not capable of destroying it. Hannibal wasn't confident that he knew enough about Horcruxes to remove one from a living being. In fact he had never heard of a living creature being a Horcrux. He would need to tread carefully around it.

The next morning Hannibal and Harry got on a plane. They passed through customs without a hitch. Harry was a bit nervous on the plane. His rational instincts tried to make another attempt of reasserting themselves, and he wanted to get off the plane. Hannibal had to soothe him with more stories of the wizarding world and magic before he calmed down a bit. Harry had questioned him extensively, for a five year old, about his relatives and Hannibal himself. Hannibal hadn't minded. It had amused him to see the boy's attempts at tripping him up. Of course in the end Hannibal had once again established himself as a trustworthy figure in Harry's eyes and Harry had once again come to grudgingly trust him.

The trip home was uneventful, save for the rude businessman in the seat across from them. His crude behavior towards the stewardess in front of Harry was unacceptable. Hannibal memorized the nametag on his carryon bag. He would be joining the rolodex of future potential victims. As soon as they touched down in America Hannibal began to refer to Harry as Hadrian. The boy was obviously still a bit uncertain about the name change but he didn't ask Hannibal to stop. Hannibal knew a part of the boy liked the new name, and having a more permanent connection to Hannibal himself.

Hannibal drove through Baltimore on their way home. He pointed out the buildings as they went and Harry looked more than a little overwhelmed. The poor child had barely seen anything of the world beyond that dreadful little suburb. The plane ride and arriving in an entirely new country was going to be a very large adjustment for Harry not to mention the greater physical changes to come. Hannibal was confident that the boy would be fine. When they arrived at his home Harry was stunned by the sheer size of the lovely stone house. The boy was almost too intimidated to enter the house.

"This is your home now, Hadrian. You are more than welcome inside," Hannibal assured him resting his hand on his shoulder and ushering him through the door.

"It's so big and… fancy," Harry said in awe. His green eyes darted here and there taking in the paintings on the walls and the bookshelves. "I don't want to break anything."

"I trust that you will do no such thing. Another child perhaps. But I have faith in you. You are not like most children. You are very mature for your age," Hannibal praised.

The boy flushed, unaccustomed to praise.

"Now would you like a tour of the house? Or would you like a snack first?" Hannibal offered.

"We can have a tour?" Harry replied looking nervous, and glancing at Hannibal trying to gauge what the correct response was.

"Hadrian, if you are hungry you may tell me. I am not like your relatives. I will not punish you for your body's natural responses. If you are hungry I will feed you. You are growing boy it is expected for you to often be hungry. If you need anything else you only need to tell me. I will not turn you away. I will listen to you and do my best to aid you," Hannibal assured him. It was important that Harry got over his reluctance to tell Hannibal how he was feeling. As his metamorphosis continued his hunger would grow exponentially, and it would be imperative that Hannibal encouraged and fed that hunger.

"I'm a little hungry. But I can make us a snack," Harry offered.

"How about we make something together? I can show you the kitchen and teach you my rules for using it."

Harry nodded eager to learn some of Hannibal's rules.

"We will make some simple sandwiches," Hannibal led him into his pristine kitchen.

The kitchen was his favorite part of his home. Unlike many magical beings Hannibal was grateful for the all of the advancements in technology that had been made throughout the years. Many of his kind simply ate their food raw, not having the patience to prepare and refine their meals. Hannibal had always been different from others of his kind in that regard. Yes, he had a darker more animalistic side but his perfect control over himself kept it from showing. This was control was something he was going to have teach Harry as his instincts began to grow and he started to change.

Hannibal went over the rules with Harry about using certain appliances. Harry was not to use or touch any of the appliances or knives in the kitchen unless Hannibal was present. He would be allowed to pour himself drinks, procure fruits or vegetables from the refrigerator, or snacks from the cupboards any time he felt hungry.

The meat Hannibal pulled from his refrigerator came courtesy of a rather nasty barista who had splattered coffee all over Hannibal without apologizing. He offered a piece to Harry where he sat on a bar stool beside him. Harry accepted and chewed it thoughtfully.

"What kind of meat is this? It doesn't taste like turkey or chicken," Harry frowned.

Hannibal smiled at the boy's observation. "It's pork from a pig. Have you ever had it before?"

"Never sliced like this. Aunt Petunia only bought the big roasts before," Harry explained timidly reaching for the second piece Hannibal offered him.

"Well, you will be having a whole new dining experience with me. Cooking, as I've said before, is one of my passions. I am always trying something new. I hope that you will always try something first before you say you don't like it. That is the most important rule of my kitchen," Hannibal smiled.

"I will, I promise. I've really liked everything you've made so far," Harry said shyly.

"Good."

The two of them had their sandwiches. Afterwards Hannibal gave him a complete tour of the house. Of course he left the special room beneath his wine cellar out of the tour. Hannibal would save that room until Harry was older and ready to see it. The last stop on their tour was the guest room across from his own. The room was going to be Harry's. It held dark cherry furniture with green and blue accents. Hannibal could see that Harry loved it. The boy favored nature colors and when asked he insisted that there was nothing in the room that he would change. At the revelation that there was an attached bathroom Hannibal could see he was once more becoming overwhelmed by all of his new possessions.

To keep Harry distracted Hannibal brought him over to his harpsichord. Sitting him down beside him he began to play a soft melody. As he played he wove some soothing magic into the music to relax Harry. The boy instantly grew lax and was soon leaning up against Hannibal in a light doze. Hannibal created a mental list of things that would need to be done. He would need to reschedule his appointments for the next month or so as Harry adjusted and he learned to control his new instincts. Hannibal wouldn't be able to leave him on his own or with a nanny while he was going through his change. Of course he would slip out to restock their pantry while Harry slept. Hannibal would need quite a few pigs to keep Harry properly fed in the coming weeks.

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting Harry acclimated to his new home. He asked more questions about magic and the wizarding world. Hannibal took care to introduce the subject of wendigos to Harry. He made them out to be whimsical characters who could walk through dreams and shape-shift. Hannibal would reveal the truth to him in small increments. There was no need to rush into anything. Harry would be introduced to the subject slowly and carefully once his bond with Hannibal was firmly established.

That night Harry helped him cook their first meal together in their home. It felt nice to have someone to share a meal with. Hannibal often had his 'friends' over or threw dinner parties for the socialites of Baltimore but it was different with Harry. The boy was going to be a permanent fixture in his life. The child would be his family someone he would never have to hide from, someone he could be himself with. Hannibal would never have to eat alone again.

One Month Later

Hannibal stirred from his slumber as he felt a gentle poke to his side. It was the very early hours of the morning and he had an unexpected guest in his bedroom. It was becoming more and more common for Hadrian to wake him up for meals during the night. But Hannibal didn't mind.

"Papa," Hadrian's plaintive voice whispered. "Papa?"

"Yes, Hadrian?" Hannibal murmured.

"I'm hungry," Hadrian whispered plaintively.

Hannibal sat up and looked over at the child. Hadrian's hair was a wild tangle having just woken up. Despite the darkness in the room his dark green eyes were locked firmly on him. His vision had vastly improved to the point of him gaining the night vision possessed by all wendigos. The color of his eyes had also been changing. Hannibal predicted that by the end of the month the color will have darkened completely to match his own reddish brown. However, the color of his eyes was the only outward sign of the change as of yet. Being able to change forms was the very last stage of the transformation. All of the other, significant modifications were occurring inside. His instincts were sharpening and changing to match the predator he was soon going to become. All of his senses were going stronger, and most importantly his hunger had developed.

The past month had been going exceedingly well. Hadrian was adjusting wonderfully to his new life. He was adapting to the transformation better than Hannibal had predicted. It was like Hadrian had always been meant to go down this path.

"Well, we should get you something to eat then," Hannibal said easily rising from the bed, and putting on his robe.

He swept Hadrian into his arms, and carried him down into the kitchen. Hadrian cut the vegetables while Hannibal prepared the meat and eggs for a rich protein scramble. The two of them had fallen easily into this rhythm. Hannibal had been worried about inviting Hadrian to help him, and that despite his previous experience in the kitchen he would still get in the way. But Hadrian was an excellent listener and picked up the skills Hannibal taught him quickly. There had been moments of discontent between them where Hadrian had tested him. Just as any child tests their parent or guardian to see how much they could get away with before they reached the limit of their patience. Hadrian had been in a very restrictive environment. His new life with Hannibal provided him with a sense of freedom he did not previously have. It was only natural for him to try and stretch the boundaries of his new environment. To test and see how Hannibal would react. Of course Hannibal was firm with him and enforced his rules in a strict but much gentler manner than his aunt and uncle had.

Hadrian had responded wonderfully to his efforts. Their relationship had grown in leaps and bounds. Hadrian felt safe and comfortable with Hannibal now, and didn't want to displease him. Hadrian had recently begun to call him papa. It had been a huge victory for Hannibal. Referring to him as papa meant that Hadrian now trusted him. It would not be long now until Hadrian's metamorphosis was complete. In fact it could be any day now. It would be important for Hannibal to begin to introduce Hadrian to just what Hannibal was and what he would soon become. In fact Hannibal thought Hadrian was ready for the final stage of the transformation, and there was a catalyst that Hannibal could provide that would push Hadrian through that last step.

"I've been really, really hungry lately. I just want to eat all the time. I've never been this hungry before," Hadrian observed as they sat down to their very early breakfast.

Hannibal gently brushed back Hadrian's hair before responding. "Hmm, have you noticed anything else strange?"

"I can see better. When we have our lessons I don't have to scrunch up my face to see the letters anymore. I can see in the dark, too. Is this something that can happen because of my magic?"

"No, I don't believe that is something that your magic can change," Hannibal said making sure to sound thoughtful.

"Is there something wrong with me?" Hadrian worried.

"No, my little one. I think you may be changing," Hannibal announced as if the idea had just occurred to him.

"Changing? Into what?" Hadrian gasped in concern.

"You remember when I told you that I wasn't exactly a wizard?" Hadrian nodded. "Do you remember what I told you about wendigos?"

"They're magical people that can turn into a feathered stag. They also need to eat a lot because they have really powerful mind magic and because they're really strong and fast. So they need lots of food to fuel them," Hadrian answered promptly.

"Very good. I'm a wendigo, Hadrian," Hannibal explained.

"So you can turn into a deer?" Hadrian said looking intrigued. Of course as a child he was easily distracted from his own changes by the fact that Hannibal could shape-shift.

"A ravenstag, but yes I can transform. I believe that you are turning into one as well," Hannibal paused to see Hadrian's reaction.

"Me? But how?" Hadrian's eyes were wide.

"It is very rare but sometimes when a strong bond is formed between a wendigo and another person that person can be turned into a wendigo. I think that the two of us have formed a very strong father-son relationship these past few weeks, don't you?"

Hadrian nodded and smiled.

"So, my turning into a wendigo is kind of like me becoming your real son?" Hadrian enthused.

"Yes, it is exactly like that," Hannibal agreed, pleased that he was taking things so well. "We can check and make sure that this is what is happening, if you wish."

"How can we do that?"

"Remember when I told you that wendigos could go into the dreams of others?" Hadrian nodded. "I want to go into your mind to check. It will be there that I can see if you really are turning into a wendigo like myself. Your mind will be shaped differently. Would you like to be a wendigo like me, Hadrian?"

"Yes, more than anything," Hadrian said simply.

"Well then, would you let me into your mind?"

"Okay," Hadrian agreed hesitantly.

That was all the permission that Hannibal needed. The willing acceptance of possession would give Hadrian that much needed last push in his transformation.

"This won't hurt a bit," Hannibal smiled as he leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of Hadrian's skull.

Hadrian closed his eyes. Hannibal closed his as well as he began the journey into his mindscape. He had been visiting Hadrian's mind garden nightly. The once colorful and bountiful garden had darkened and decayed. Thorny black rose bushes sprawled across the vast meadows destroying the weaker plants. Huge hedgerows were starting to grow and stretch towards the sky to create a twisting maze. Along the edges a dark and jagged forest had taken shape, and the dreamscape had fallen into eternal twilight. It was beautiful to Hannibal's eyes. A true sign of how far Hadrian had come.

The soul shard inside the mausoleum was slowly succumbing to the dark presence of Hannibal's blood and magic. Hannibal was pleased although he would have liked a way to extract the shard to study its source. He was fairly certain it came from the Dark Lord who had tried to kill Hadrian but failed. But he wanted to know more about this wizard, and having a piece of soul would have given him access to all his knowledge. It was no matter, however, he would much rather prefer that Hadrian complete the change than keep the soul fragment.

Unlike his previous trips to Hadrian's mind Hannibal purposely sought out the boy's consciousness. He found him deep within the hedge maze in the last remaining vestige of light. It was a gazebo made of white marble stone and gold highlights. It was the source of Hadrian's magical core. Before Hannibal hadn't been able to get near such pure magic. Now he had been invited and the rest of the boy's mind had fallen prey to Hannibal's blood and the influence of his own mind, significantly weakening it. Hadrian lay in the middle of the gazebo sleeping.

"Hadrian," Hannibal called.

The boy's eyes flew open and found his own. "Papa? Where am I?"

"Inside your mind," Hannibal answered as he walked to the edge of the gazebo's steps.

"Really? This is my mind?" Hadrian questioned glancing around.

"Indeed it is. I will teach you how to navigate it better once the process is complete."

"What process? I thought you just had to check," Hadrian frowned.

"You are indeed becoming a wendigo. You need guidance through your first transformation. I'm going to help you," Hannibal assured him.

"I can turn into a ravenstag?" Hadrian asked eagerly walking across the gazebo to stand on the steps in front of Hannibal.

"You will be. Take my hand, now let's walk back into the middle of the gazebo," Hadrian did as he asked without question. He didn't notice the way that the gazebo's white floor blackened everywhere Hannibal stepped.

"Now Hadrian don't be afraid I'm going to transform. Then my horns are going to pierce you. It won't hurt but it will if you struggle. Try to relax you are going to be just fine. I promise," Hannibal soothed.

"Why do you have to stab me?" Hadrian worried.

"It is the easiest way to infuse you with my power and complete the transformation. And remember this isn't real. This is just in your mind. In reality you won't be harmed at all." Truthfully this process would be killing the last human part of Hadrian and free the wendigo waiting to emerge. It would emerge on it's own eventually by ripping its way through the human part. But Hannibal thought he would speed things along.

"Okay," Hadrian said looking a little frightened.

Hannibal gave him a rare hug to calm him down. The boy melted into the embrace once more trusting Hannibal, which ultimately be his downfall. Hannibal knew he needed to act quickly while Hadrian was momentarily calmed and trusting. Hannibal took his ravenstag form, and without any hesitation he lowered his head and stepped forward. His sharp horns impaled Hadrian. Hannibal retreated swiftly and shifted back to watch as Hadrian's blood spilled out and the boy collapsed against the white marble. His blood spilled across the white gazebo and caused it to darken. The structure quivered and shook. The white became black. The gold became silver. And the delicate accents of the gazebo became elegant but deadly spires.

Hannibal retreated from Hadrian's mindscape. Once back into his own mind he opened his eyes to better observe the change firsthand. Hadrian's eyes were closed tight and he was deeply locked into his own mind as the transformation took hold. Hannibal settled him carefully onto some pillows to make him as comfortable as possible.

It started slowly. His skin began to blacken. The structure of his legs shifted to those of a stag's with tiny little black cloven hooves. Small little horns that would one day branch out to deadly peaks appeared on his forehead. The change paused for a moment before continuing into the form of a ravenstag or a ravenfawn would be a more accurate description. Hannibal couldn't help but smile at the adorable picture Hadrian presented with his horn buds, downy black feathers, and gray-spotted black fur of a young fawn. Then Hadrian once more returned to his human form. He had completed it. He had survived. There was always the risk he wouldn't survive the final transformation.

Hadrian opened his eyes and looked up at him with his own dark maroon eyes. Hadrian smiled up at him. Hannibal was no longer alone. He had a son. Hannibal smiled back down at him.

* * *

**So from what I've looked up on wendigos the only way to become a wendigo is either just by being a cannibal or you have to be possessed by another ****wendigo which in turn makes you feel like you're starving and once you start eating human flesh you then transform into one. That's where I've kind of gotten my ideas from in regards to the mythology.**

**But anyway thanks for the huge response! I wasn't expecting it and I really appreciate all the wonderful reviews. I'm glad everyone liked the idea of Hannibal being an actual monster. I actually started writing the story with him just being normal human but I thought it would tie in better with the magical world if he was a magical creature. After all if he was ever to go up against wizards, as awesome as Hannibal is, without magic of his own wizards could stop him fairly easily.**

**Also the only physical change to Harry's/Hadrian's appearance is his eyes. The rest of his features still look the same as he would in canon.**


	3. I Feel Like A Monster

******Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Hannibal or Harry Potter.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: I Feel Like a Monster**

"How are you feeling, Hadrian?" Hannibal asked.

It was only moments after Hadrian had completed his transformation. Hannibal wanted to gauge what his mental state was so that he could precede accordingly.

"Papa," was all Hadrian said in a slight daze. His pupils were unnaturally dilated.

"Yes, Hadrian. I'm right here," Hannibal leaned closer to reassure the child with his presence.

"I'm hungry," Hadrian whispered. His blood soaked earth colored eyes locked on Hannibal's, and Hannibal felt the lightest of probes against the walls of his mind palace. Pride welled inside him that he was already attempting such things. He would be a strong and gifted boy.

"Well, we can't have that, my little one. Let's see if we can find you something to fill you up," Hannibal smiled and stroked the dark hair away from his face.

Three Years Later

Sarah Moore ran as fast as she could through the forest. It was dark save for the moonlight overhead, and every shadow seemed to be a monster in disguise waiting to drag her away. Sarah was a runner, and very conscientious of her health. She tried to run every day, and made sure she ate appropriate proportions and foods. This would be perfectly fine, good even, but Sarah also enjoyed pushing her own opinions on healthy living onto other people. In grocery stores she had no trouble walking up to others to tell them that what they were purchasing was wrong and unhealthy. Unfortunately, Sarah wasn't properly trained or educated in physical health and her ideas were often wrong. Sarah often came across as incredibly rude.

After work she had gone on a run on a local trail through the woods. It was a trail she ran frequently but today she seemed to have gotten turned around somehow. Before she knew it the sky was darkening and night had fallen. Sarah prided herself on being strong and independent but in that moment she was scared and didn't want to be alone. As she moved through the forest some deep instinctual part of her, carried over from the dark ages, told her she was being hunted. She ran faster and faster in an attempt to flee whatever was pursuing her. But she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and she tripped over a root. Dirt flew up everywhere as she went sprawling across the forest floor.

A pair of hooves came into her line of view. It was only a deer. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she looked up. Her sigh of relief was short lived and a scream escaped her lips as she looked up and caught sight of what was really hovering over her. It was a monster, a small but a monster nonetheless. Dark blood red eyes marbled with black looked back down at her. The jet-black face was round and childlike. The horns on its head were tiny budding spikes, and its lower half was that of a small deer. If deer had fluffy down feathers as well as fur. An impish smile curled across black lips to reveal a mouthful of razor sharp teeth that gleamed in the moonlight. The monster took a step towards her. Sarah started shuffling back in the undergrowth trying desperately to get to her feet and get away. The beast may not have been taller than she was but the unnaturally long claws, and viciously sharp teeth were certainly dangerous enough for her.

Finally she managed to get herself up to run. But the creature had somehow already moved in front of her. She turned to run the other way but it was there again. The monster giggled. There was no other word to describe the terrifying exclamation of mirth. The childish sound terrified her even more for it meant that the monster was playing with her. Apparently someone else thought so too.

"Hadrian, what have I told you about playing with your food?" Came a deep cultured voice from somewhere in the darkness between the trees.

Sarah was so startled by hearing that smooth, civilized voice in the middle of this ghastly nightmare that the words didn't immediately register with her. When they did her panic increased tenfold. Did he say… food?

"Sorry papa, I won't do it again," replied the little monster.

Terror consumed Sarah as the creature advanced on her. Her last sight was of a second pair of red eyes watching on from the shadows.

Three Years Later

Six years had come and gone since Hannibal had snuck off with little Harry Potter, and turned him into a monster. Tonight Hannibal was hosting a dinner party for several of his friends. It was a celebration for Hannibal's son. The dinner was a truly special occasion but not for graduating from elementary school like their guests believed. No, this was to celebrate Hadrian's triumphant hunts. For the meat for this meal that they were going to enjoy had been provided entirely by Hadrian. The eleven year old had picked his own victims, and then with a little help from Hannibal he'd stalked them, isolated them, and harvested them. Hannibal couldn't have been prouder. His little boy was growing up so fast.

It seemed like it was just the other day that Hadrian had completed his first change. The boy had been terribly disoriented at first, and he had struggled a great deal to control his hunger. No one had been safe from Hadrian's voracious appetite. He'd eaten a neighbor's pet or two, and he even tried to take a few bites out of Hannibal. But Hannibal hadn't taken it personally. He knew it was only natural for one so young to lack control over his appetite, and that's what parents were for. The insatiable hunger would have become even stronger than it had been during his transformation while his body was learning to adjust to its knew center of being. If he had been born a wendigo he would have learned to control it since birth. He had several years of learning control to make up for.

Hannibal had ended up having to lock him in his hidden basement for a short time. He would bring him back his victims for Hadrian to finish off, and to begin practicing his hunting skills. Hannibal had kept him there until he had learned enough control over his hunger. Hadrian had made quick progress but then again Hannibal was a wonderful teacher and a master of control. Hadrian had been a little bit upset when he'd finally gained control over himself again. He had eaten people after all, and even with his transformation and new set of instincts it had been a huge adjustment to the young child's surprisingly strong sense of morality. But Hannibal had ensured him that it was natural. They were predators, at the top of the food chain, and everything else was their prey. With Hadrian's new, fiercer instincts easing the way it was simple for Hannibal to conform Hadrian to these ideals.

For the first two years Hannibal had continued to bring victims home with him. But around the time Hadrian turned seven, when he had gained enough control not to lose himself to the frenzy, he started bringing Hadrian along on some of the easier kills. At first Hannibal only allowed him to watch him. He needed to prove himself capable of following Hannibal's instructions, and so that he could learn new hunting skills through watching Hannibal's own approach. Slowly Hannibal had allowed Hadrian to help him with a kill here and there. Hannibal also took him hunting magical creatures where the boy could test his superior speed and strength against other powerful beasts.

His skills had vastly improved over the years. Hadrian still needed help tracking down his victims and making sure he took them from secluded areas. As well as for the actual harvesting of key organs. Hannibal had been teaching him how to properly wield a scalpel but he was only eleven, and he had a long way to go before he reached the skill level that Hannibal possessed. But with the tenacity and ferocity Hadrian had been gifted with Hannibal was certain that he would pick them up in no time. Hannibal had also taken the time to have regular lessons in the magic and in the mind. They studied the darker more secretive magic and rituals of wendigos. Hadrian was doing well with both, and he excelled in slipping into others minds. He enjoyed the manipulation, and twisting of minds as much as Hannibal did.

The two of them had spent the day preparing this meal, and Hadrian was quite excited to share it with others. They had invited several of his friends from school as well their parents, acquaintances of Hannibal's. Hadrian's cooking skills had vastly improved, and it was a hobby that the two of them enjoyed doing together along with their more illegal activities. There were many other pursuits that Hadrian enjoyed that deviated from Hannibal's own interests. Hannibal had allowed his son the freedom to choose hobbies that differed from his own. He did not want his son to feel that he had to conform and enjoy every hobby that Hannibal did.

Hannibal's own tastes tended to run towards more refined things while Hadrian had taken up more physical pursuits and played both soccer and lacrosse, which was understandable due to his youth. Hannibal enjoyed going to his games to interact with and analyze the other parents. In the past six years Hannibal had never been bored, and he had never felt lonely. As the guests started to arrive Hadrian went to greet them and show them the way to the dining room.

Hannibal could not have been prouder as he watched his son. He wore black slacks and a red cashmere sweater. His midnight black hair was neatly styled. Over the years they had worked hard to find ways to tame its wildness but they weren't always successful. His dark maroon eyes flashed red when they caught the right light giving away subtle hints of his darker nature.

Everyone always complimented him on what a sweet boy Hadrian Lecter was. For the past five years Hadrian had met and exceeded all of Hannibal's expectations. Hadrian listened intently to all the information that Hannibal had to impart, and used that information to better himself. He always conducted himself as cordially as possible, for a child, when in public. In private, when it was just the two of them, things were very different. The people Hadrian met in the dark of the night certainly wouldn't say he was a kind, and precocious little boy. No, they would say he was a vicious monster if they were capable of doing anything besides screaming when Hadrian had his hands on them. Of course this made Hannibal proud too.

"Thank you so much for inviting me, Dr. Lecter. Your son is absolutely adorable," his newest mentee, Alana Bloom, said by way of greeting.

She was a lovely young woman with dark hair and blue eyes. She was one of the few humans whose presence he didn't find utterly abhorrent. Alana was also one of the most promising students he'd seen in a long time so of course he had agreed to become her mentor her during her residency. He wanted a hand in shaping the kind of psychiatrist she would later become. Alana was intriguing. She was one of those rare, truly decent people who had a very strong sense of morality, and truly wanted to help others. She didn't just want to further her own interests. When crossed she could be fierce, almost vicious. She was unafraid to stand up for those who could not stand up for themselves. Alana didn't give up; she fought to the very end, and used her considerable intellect to complete the goals she set before herself. Under the right circumstances he was certain she could prove herself to be highly entertaining.

This was the first time he had invited her over for a dinner party and this was the first time she had met Hadrian. She knew of Hadrian and asked after him quite a bit. Alana was hopeless when it came to children or those that she perceived as being vulnerable. It was one of her weaknesses. Hannibal hoped to exploit this weakness by having her form a bond with Hadrian and in turn with himself to keep her blind to his true nature. Alana was perceptive and one of the few who would be capable of realizing what he truly was. Of course he could have just manipulated her mind to suit his purposes but Hannibal preferred not to use his powers unless absolutely necessary. He enjoyed a challenge and getting Alana to trust him unconditionally without the use of his abilities would be a huge victory.

"He is a very bright child," Hannibal nodded his head in acknowledgment of her compliment.

"You've done a wonderful job with him. It's such a shame about his mother. I didn't realize that she had passed away," Alana shook her head sadly. Yes, she really was too kindhearted for her own good.

Hannibal had long ago spun the story that Hadrian was his child with an old acquaintance in England. He hadn't known about his existence until he was five when that acquaintance had died in an automobile accident, and he had gained custody of him. The story never failed to gain sympathy, and added another layer to his already impeccable mask. People never suspected the busy single father who had stepped up to the plate to care for a child he'd never known about of any wrongdoings.

"Yes, unfortunately she did. Mercifully he doesn't remember much about his time before he came to live with me. So he is spared from the sense that he is missing something in his life," Hannibal responded.

"That and you're a very good father. Hadrian mentioned that he could speak French and Lithuanian. An impressive feat for an eleven year old," Alana smiled.

"I can't take credit for it all. He is very studious child."

"Papa, the last guest has just arrived," Hadrian appeared at their sides. A year ago Hadrian had taken to calling him father in public; although, he was still papa in private. It was a sure sign that his little boy was growing up.

"Why don't you go ahead and take a seat Alana, the first course will be delivered in just a moment," Hannibal led her back to the dining room.

"You invited Mr. Johnson?" Hadrian accused wrinkling his nose at the thought of his elementary school principal.

"He was your principal for the last six years. It was only polite to invite him to the graduation party," Hannibal replied, although he too found the man odious. He was far too much of bootlicker for Hannibal's tastes. The man had known Hannibal was very wealthy, and held a high position in Baltimore's high society. He spent Hadrian's school years sucking up to Hannibal and Hadrian hoping for a place among the wealthy.

"Can I eat him?" Hadrian pleaded, giving Hannibal a beseeching look that was almost a pout. But Hadrian knew how Hannibal felt about pouting and whining so he refrained.

"We shall see," Hannibal said finally with an indulgent smile. The man was rather rude and it was Hadrian's party after all.

Hadrian flashed a feral grin.

The dinner party went off without a hitch. Hannibal had invited those that considered themselves to be his friends. In reality they were those that he found the most interesting to allow multiple meetings, and viewed to be only slightly better than the rest of the two-legged pigs. Deceiving them was simple and enjoyable. After the party, for doing so well, he took Hadrian to hunt his principal. He brought them both into the woods and allowed the young wendigo to stretch the legs of his growing ravenstag form. Hadrian had lost most of his fawn spots but his feathers still had the fluffier down of a young ravenstag. His horns had grown a bit but they were small spikes horns and hadn't yet started branching off.

Hadrian was still a child no matter how much control he had over himself. There were still times he just needed to let loose, and be childish. Hannibal didn't mind allowing him that freedom. Hadrian enjoyed the thrill of the chase so Hannibal made sure to give him as many opportunities to go on hunts as often as possible. He did not yet have a taste for the finer aspects of the hunt and creating displays like Hannibal did. One day he would.

/

The next morning Hannibal woke to the screeching of a bird. He pulled on his bathrobe and made his way down to the kitchen. He discovered Hadrian clutching a struggling snowy white owl in his hands. There was obvious shock on Hadrian's face, and Hannibal had to admit he was a bit surprised as well.

"Why is there an owl in our kitchen?" Hannibal questioned calmly.

"It was taping on the window, and when I opened the window to shoo it away it flew onto the counter. It has a note on its leg but when I went to take the note it started shrieking at me. It bit me," Hadrian glared at the owl.

Hannibal reached out to take the note from the bird. It was easy now that Hadrian was holding it prisoner. He was surprised to see it was an admission letter from Hogwarts addressed to Harry J. Potter in green ink. Hannibal thought after the transformation that the wizards wouldn't be able to track Hadrian down by searching for Harry Potter because Harry Potter no longer existed. It was well past Hadrian's eleventh birthday in fact he would be twelve in just two and half months. Unless… Hannibal took a closer look at the owl. The creature looked like it had been run ragged. It was thinner than it should have been and many of its feathers were missing or broken like it had spent months of its own. Had the poor thing spent an entire year trying to deliver its letter, unwilling to give up its search? The owl would have been a beautiful snowy white owl had it not suffered through so much. There was an intelligence and magic to the owl that was not commonly seen even in wizarding owls. Somehow the owl had managed to track Hadrian down through sheer force of will. Hannibal could respect such a creature's tenacity.

"Hmm, we should feed her. She has traveled a long way and it looks like she could use it," Hannibal pulled out a dish of water and some meat for her.

"Set her on the counter," Hannibal commanded.

Hadrian gave him a wide-eyed look. He knew that Hannibal took the cleanliness of his kitchen very seriously and allowing a bird on it was something that was very out of character for him. In fact it would have been more like him to kill the owl for daring to dirty his windows.

"It's all right, we will clean it later," Hannibal assured him.

"Why would a wizard have sent us a letter?" Hadrian asked as he watched the owl quickly gulp down the water and food. Of course Hadrian was well aware of the wizarding world and its customs. He remembered that he was once a wizard named Harry Potter, and Hannibal had continued to teach him about wizards even long after he stopped being one.

"It is from a wizarding school in Scotland. They offered you a place in their school," Hannibal replied handing him the letter.

"But I'm not a wizard anymore," Hadrian frowned.

"No, you are still capable of learning to use their magic. Of course there are certain spells like the Patronus charm, which are light magic spells that are far too beyond our capabilities. We are dark creatures after all," Hannibal explained.

"True, but this letter is for Harry Potter. I'm not really him anymore," Hadrian noted.

"No, you are not. But they do not know that. No doubt they are desperate to find you, and sent out the letters in hopes that it would lead them to you. You are the closest approximation to Harry Potter there is in this world, which is why this ingenious bird came to you. The others ignored that similarity but this owl was intelligent enough to understand what that similarity meant," Hannibal scratched the owl under the chin.

"Do you think anyone else from the wizarding world will be able to find me?" Hadrian asked his brow creasing.

"I do not know. I do not think so. It has been six years, and you have undergone a complete metamorphosis. I think it is sheer luck that this owl was able to. The others have all given up but not this one. It recognizes that you're not quite Harry Potter and that is the reason it bit you upon trying to take the letter. You are all that is left of him, and that is why it came to you," Hannibal mused.

"I wonder if the wizards still think Harry Potter is alive. They had to have some sort of hope that he was because they sent out the letters. Now, however, that the owls were unsuccessful I wonder if they will continue searching," Hadrian questioned thoughtfully.

"Are you happy you aren't Harry Potter?" Hannibal asked.

Hadrian was silent for a long moment as he thought. "Yes. I'm happy to be Hadrian Lecter. I wouldn't want to be anyone else," he finally replied with utter certainty.

"I'm glad to hear that, now I think we should keep the owl. We can't have her returning to the wizards knowing our location, and she is very resourceful and intelligent. What would you like to name her?" Hannibal asked.

"Hedwig," Hadrian answered promptly.

Hannibal lifted an eyebrow in question.

"I read it in a book. It was the first thing that popped into my head," Hadrian defended.

"Hedwig it is," Hannibal agreed leaning across the counter to scratch the owl's head.

Hedwig hooted imperiously.

/

Later in the day Hadrian rode his bike to the park. He may have been a wendigo with an appetite for human flesh but he was still a young boy, and he enjoyed similar pursuits as other young boys. It was the first day of his summer vacation and he wanted to enjoy his free time. Hadrian met up with a few acquaintances from school, and they played a game of soccer. Hadrian hoped the game would help to take his mind off things.

The owl and the letter had stirred up quite a few thoughts for him. Hadrian hadn't lied; he really didn't want to be Harry Potter. He much preferred his life as Hadrian Lecter even if his father hadn't been completely honest with him in the beginning. His papa had only been doing what he thought was best. He took Hadrian far away from the Dursleys, and kept him from a life of being worshipped for an event he didn't even remember. Hadrian was glad that his papa had chosen him to become his son.

Hadrian loved being a wendigo and all the strength and fierce grace that came with it. He was a predator at the top of the food chain with senses and speed that others only dreamed of having. Hadrian was capable of scenting fear from miles away, and he had the power to control and shape the nightmares of others. There were few other creatures out there who would be capable of overpowering a wendigo, and Hadrian respected his power. But sometimes he wondered what it was like back in England. His papa had told him all about Voldemort and his attack on him as a baby. He had once been the British wizarding world's savior. Hadrian had had a piece of the man's soul inside of him. But it had been destroyed after his first transformation. Or so they both believed. The two of them could no longer sense or locate the piece of soul and therefore believed that it had not survived the transformation.

In the middle of the scrimmage Hadrian experienced an excruciating pain in his skull. It sent him to his knees. Hadrian could hear the other boys calling out to him but Hadrian was sinking inward, into the depths of his mind maze, searching out the cause for his sudden pain. His papa had taught him a great deal about how to navigate mindscapes, taking him on trips into the minds of their victims and even allowing him to explore certain sections of the vast medieval castle made of black stone that his papa had built within his mind throughout his long years. Hadrian had built his own mindscape into a towering and twisting hedge maze full of traps and wrong turns. It was a maze only he and his papa would have been capable of navigating. Even the most skilled wizard Legilimens would have had trouble traveling too deeply into Hadrian's maze.

Hadrian instantly ran through the rows of his maze seeking out the source of his pain. It led him deep into his mindscape in a forgotten section of his mind. The source of his agony was a small building of some sort that had been covered with black thorny rose vines and the thick consuming branches of the hedges. Hadrian frowned as he brushed aside these branches so that he could get a better look at just what it was. When he did finally get a good look Hadrian was shocked by his discovery. Both he and his father had believed that the soul piece that had latched onto his as an infant had long since been destroyed by the darkness of his wendigo blood. But it seemed that wasn't the case. It had merely been weakened to the point of near nonexistence because here it stood extremely weak yet still holding on, and somehow regaining strength. The soul piece inside was moving and Hadrian decided to take a peek inside. It was like being a movie theater and looking up at the large screen. The movie that was playing was that of the view from the main soul piece's eyes. It seemed that he had recently been resurrected.

Hadrian was perturbed. He strengthened the walls around the soul shard in an attempt to stifle the agony it was causing him. The cause of the pain seemed to be from the soul's attempts to take over more space in Harry's mind as it was revitalized from the surge of power from its main soul piece. A link had developed between the soul fragment lodged in Hadrian's mind, and the main soul allowing the influx of power. Hadrian worked quickly to put a stop to the link. He only hoped that it would work. His papa had been training him in the mind arts but this was a connection that even his papa was unfamiliar with. Such soul link between living beings was unprecedented. Hadrian could only hope to put a stop to the link temporarily to keep Voldemort from discovering the connection. A more permanent solution would need to be discovered before Voldemort discovered the link between the minds and exploited it.

When he finished blocking the link and closing off the soul piece in an even tighter cage he finally allowed his mind to float back into consciousness. He woke to find his papa hovering over him. Worry clear in his maroon gaze as he knelt on the ground his fine green plaid suit. Hadrian was still lying in the grass in the park. His papa had sent his friends off and stood watch over him.

"I sensed your pain, and came as quickly as I could. I was just about to come in after you. Initially, I did not want to disturb you in the event it caused further problems, as I did not know the cause of your malady. What happened, my little one?" his papa questioned in concern.

Hadrian highlighted the pain he had felt, and what he had witnessed inside his mind.

His papa frowned. "May I take look?"

Hadrian nodded his acceptance. His papa took a quick cursory look through his mind, and checked over the restored soul piece.

"Hmm, I had thought it had been destroyed in the initial change. However, it appears it was so weakened that its aura became nearly nonexistent, and the soul itself became dormant. This is why we did not detect it sooner. Now that Voldemort has been restored so too has the soul piece. It seems as if the dark wizard has gotten his hands on a power source to restore himself. His restoration will cause you great problems, and we need to remove the soul shard as soon as possible."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Hadrian questioned.

"Over the years I have thought of several ways to safely remove a soul shard from a living creature. It was a puzzle that I did not have the answer to when you were younger. I always regretted the missed opportunity to study a horcrux firsthand. But of course your safety came before such explorations. I think I can safely remove it from you now and transfer the soul piece to another object."

"I don't like the thought of someone's else's soul leeching off mine," Hadrian's nose wrinkled in disgust. For the moment the fragmented wizard was unaware of the connection and that a piece of soul resided in another living being. Hadrian wanted to keep it that way. Who knows the power the wizard would gain from having unfettered access to a wendigo's mind.

The two of them returned home. His papa set up the ritual using a mixture of his blood and the venom of a young basilisk the two of them had slain together a year before. Hadrian watched with interest as his papa drew dark and ancient runes in a language known only to wendigos. His papa had been teaching him some of them and Hadrian knew enough to recognize the ones on the floor were to separate and contain. Once the runes were complete Hadrian stood in the center with a small ornate silver box, which would be the new vessel for the soul shard. His papa took his true form standing nearly seven feet tall on his cloven hooves and seeming even taller thanks to the twisting sharp peaks of his horns. He slowly began to circle as he invoked the runes. As the power flooded the basement, and whipped around him, his papa placed his hands onto his forehead. It almost felt as if his hands were going straight through his skull to pluck out the soul fragment, and drag it out of him.

The soul piece didn't want to leave its safe and comfortable home where it had resided for the last decade. But Hadrian's papa wasn't backing down. He gripped the fragment in a strong firm hold and yanked it out of him. The soul shard tried to grapple for purchase and tried to digs its claws in. Hadrian had claws of his own. On a silent command the roses within Hadrian's mind surged up and attacked the foreign entity. With nothing else to hold onto the soul piece lost its grip on Hadrian's mind and his papa was able to safely pull it free from him. The piece was then settled into the silver box.

The entire endeavor lasted less than five minutes but it left both wendigos reeling with exhaustion. The newly created horcrux was put away in a safe location in the basement. Hadrian and his papa climbed the stairs for a quick meal before going to bed early to recharge their strength. They were both relieved that the ritual had been a success. There would be plenty of time to examine the horcrux and learn more about the wizard's intentions after they had rested. His papa gave a quick kiss to his hair that had Hadrian giving him a hug back. Hadrian was growing older and therefore less prone to fits of seeking physical comfort from his papa. In this instance Hadrian was willing to overlook that he was almost twelve. The resurgence of the soul fragment had scared him a bit and he wanted the comfort that his papa offered him. He was used to being the fiercest hunter around. Hadrian hadn't liked that he had been momentarily incapacitated, and was resolved that he would never feel that way again. He wanted to hunt down the wizard that had dared try to kill him a baby and prove that he was the superior predator. He would need to grow up a bit first but with his papa's help he knew he would be more than capable of laying waste to the dark wizard or anyone else who threatened him.

/

Six years had come and gone since the brutal murder of the Dursleys and the disappearance of the wizarding world's savior. Albus Dumbledore Headmaster of Hogwarts and one of the leaders of the wizarding had held out hope that there still might be a chance that Harry was alive. The alerts and security measures that Dumbledore had placed on Harry indicated that Harry had never been physically or magically harmed. There was no sign that he had perished. Harry should have been alive somewhere out there. Unfortunately, all of their searches for their boy savior were utterly fruitless.

Dumbledore had been hopeful that Harry's Hogwarts letter would help them find the missing child where all other methods had failed. The magic was ancient and strong, and capable of finding any magical child who had been born within the borders of Hogwarts school district. Dumbledore had continued to send out letters several months into the school year. The owls all returned, save for a few newer delivery owls that had gotten lost and never made it back. But none of them had made it to Harry or at least they never received a response back. However, by the time Halloween rolled around he quickly realized that there was no hope of finding him through the letters, and he stopped sending them. The only reason the owls wouldn't have been able to find Harry was because the boy was dead. The hope that the Boy-Who-Lived was alive fizzled out. Dumbledore himself had given up. There were no leads as to who his killer might have been, and it seemed that the prophecy was no longer relevant. The wizarding world finally mourned the passing of their boy hero.

By the end of the school year Dumbledore had several other more pressing problems to deal with anyway. Voldemort had been possessing one of his professors all year, and managed to get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone. Several students had tried to stop him but they were unsuccessful in making it through the traps protecting the stone. With the stone Voldemort had been able to make himself a new body, a body that was more powerful than his previous one due to the regenerative properties of the stone. The wizarding world was in an uproar. Some believed that Voldemort had returned while others strongly insisted that it was all a ruse.

However, when Voldemort broke out the prisoners in Azkaban they soon realized their error. The Dark Lord was fully restored to his full power, and the boy that had saved them last time was long dead. Voldemort disappeared after the breakout to plot and scheme but his interference brought to light new information that had been hidden for the past ten years. Sirius Black was discovered to be an innocent man when Peter Pettigrew was found to be alive and well having spent the last eleven years living as a rat. When Voldemort returned he had eagerly returned to the Dark Lord's side revealing the fact that he had been one of his followers the entire time. With his name cleared Sirius Black was out for revenge. With the death of his godson he had very little left to lose. He gave his family home to be the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, which had been reinstated as soon as Voldemort had restored his body. Sirius devoted the rest of his life to seeing Voldemort destroyed, and to discovering what truly happened to his godson.

* * *

**So I was wondering if anyone reading is an artist or would be interested in maybe drawing something of ravenfawn Harry. If you are please let me. I would really love to see little wendigo Harry.**

**Also now that there have been three chapters can anyone guess the song the chapter titles are from? :)**


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